


the static from your arms, it is a catalyst

by thanatopis



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Business Man Akashi, M/M, Punk Midorima and Preppy Akashi, Student Midorima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi meets Midorima Shintarou at a bar Saturday night and falls a little bit in love with the aspiring pianist.</p><p>Just a little bit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	the static from your arms, it is a catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is from Florence + The Machine _Strangeness and Charm_ which is a big AkaMido/MidoAka song for me. Go listen to it, completely beautiful.
> 
> Ah, but yes--I hope you guys enjoy! Comments and kudos are awesome and always appreciated.

They haven’t known each other long, but tumbling into bed together almost seemed like second nature.

Shintarou is a struggling musician whom Akashi meets at bar in Shinjuku one lonely Saturday night. Initially, Akashi thinks Shintarou is the most interesting looking person he’s ever run across in Tokyo, despite the vastness of the city and the things he’s seen walking back to various hotels at 1 AM.

Akashi picks a seat only a space away from Shintarou at the bar, closer than anyone without an interest would sit, and Akashi has never been delicate about being blunt when it comes to things or people he wants. It’s one of the things Shintarou likes about him.

Akashi buys Shintarou a drink and it’s charming when Shintarou looks at him nonplussed, half pout half frown transforming his plump pink lips as if he hadn’t been gauging Akashi out the corner of his eye as well. Akashi smirks at him, lifting an amused eyebrow as he trips back his own drink, finishing it all in one go. A few seconds later, Midorima follows suit with the drink Akashi brought him, grumbling some sort of thanks.

Akashi just chuckles, soft and light and asks if Shintarou would like to find a booth to chat in and they do. Akashi learns that Shintarou is 22, (only a few months older than himself) goes to school at Tokyo University, majors in the fine arts and that he’s been playing the piano since before he could even pronounce the word.

Akashi is surprised by his intellect—he doesn’t look it, with the piercings and the dyed hair, but Akashi finds himself relishing his time with Shintarou. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, but he finds himself talking about things to Shintarou that he’s never thought to talk about with supposed ‘close friends’ that he’s known since high school—it’s slightly startling, but somehow Akashi can’t find it in himself to mind.

When he delicately grabs one of Shinatarou’s hands, he smirks at how the older man squawks at his “audacity” but doesn’t move to pull his hand back. Akashi turns his hand this way and that, slowly running his index finger over the lines of his palm, in-between his fingers…and Shintarou shivers.

He fucks Shintarou in his hotel room later that night. Taking him hard on his hands and knees as watches his cock disappear again and again within the perfectness that is Shintarou’s ass. It bounces cutely with every rough slap of his hips and Shintarou is loud whether he wants to be or not, screaming his orgasm to the ceiling as Akashi fucks him through it.

To his disappointment, Akashi wakes up in an empty bed smelling of Shintarou’s sweat and cologne, and he solemnly breaths it in before opening his eyes and starting his day.

It’s only when he goes to the bathroom to piss does he see Shintarou’s number scribbled in permanent marker on his forearm, with the question: _do this again?_

Akashi smiles.

...

Akashi calls him when he’s positive that work won’t take him away again. It’s been two weeks since their initial meeting and Akashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling somewhat nervous as he presses his cellphone to the shell of his ear, listening to the ring back tone as he shifts lightly back and forth on his feet.

He wonders if Shintarou will even remember him—or if he’s just that guy Shintarou absentmindedly mentioned to his friends the day after—and if he does remember him, will Shintarou be offended that he called back so late?

The phone picks up on the twelfth ring and Akashi’s breath catches for a stuttering heartbeat of a second.

“Hi~” The voice on the line surprises Akashi because it’s definitely not Shintarou’s recognizable (and preferable) baritone that slithers along Akashi’s spine until he tingles all over.

Akashi wonders for a moment if he dialed the wrong number, gaze darting to where he elegantly and cleanly wrote Shintarou’s number on a green post-it before he took his morning shower, erasing the blotchy ink where he scribbled his number the morning after.

“Uh—” Akashi skeptically begins before the person with the cheery, upbeat voice that reminds him of puppies and butterflies interrupts him.

“No, no you have the right number! You want to speak to Midorimachi—I mean, Midorima Shintarou right?”

Akashi feels himself quirking a brow.

He wants to ask who he’s speaking to—ask why this person has Shintarou’s phone and why he’s answering it for him but then he hears something— _someone_ —in the background sounding unmistakably familiar.

“Kise, you bastard! What did I tell you about answering my phone!”

Akashi can almost see the scowl on his face, how his eyes narrow making his eyelashes standout even more starkly than they already do.

Akashi finds himself smirking indulgently at the image.

“Yes, hello? Who is this?”

Akashi gathers his thoughts before answering.

“Hello, Shintarou.”

Akashi hears the surprised intake of breath—can hear that man name Kise ask persistently over and over who it is, before a loud slam reverberates up into his ear.

“Sejijuro,” Shintarou begins, voice softer and slightly bewildered. “I didn’t think you would call.”

 _It’s been a little over two weeks_ goes unspoken, but the accusation is clear in his tone.

“I’m sorry, I meant to call sooner, but my work is very demanding and I—” He pauses, cringing internally because he’s not one to make excuses.

“I wanted to make sure I had nothing going on, you know—no...distractions.”

There’s a pause.

“I should hang up on you, you know.” Shintarou bluntly states and there is an admirable quality in it Akashi respects. “For all I know, you’re probably married—have a kid on the way or something equally disgustingly domestic.”

Akashi has to resist the urge to snicker at that, but fails at keeping the grin off his face.

“I would ask you not to…and no, I’m not married—I also shudder at the idea of having a child.”

Akashi hopes he won’t do it—hang up. Shintarou is the first person he’s liked this much—that he’s even tried bothering with—and he knows how much of a blow it would be if this thing (whatever it is) ended too soon. People like Shintarou are so very rare in Akashi’s life and the ones who show up out of the blue on Saturday nights in Shinjuku is even less.

Shintarou scoffs over the line. “You could have at least texted you dick.”

Akashi chuckles at that, smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He opens his mouth for a moment, then closes it, opening it again as he gapes stupidly like one of his fishes in their luxury tank.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”

Shintarou snorts, “Yeah, apparently.”

Akashi rocks back on his heels, feeling oddly giddy and he is mildly horrified by it all.

“I think I just might like you, Shintarou,” Akashi shakes his head, laughing while looking down at his bare feet. “Oh god, this is _horrible_.”

That earns Akashi a laugh and he can almost see it—he _needs_ to see it.

“Welcome to the club.”

…

Dinner happens the same week at a restaurant Akashi goes to when he wants privacy—or in situations like these, intimacy. The restaurant/bar provides dim lighting and quiet jazz music as white noise—just right for setting a personal, inmost feel of affinity.

Shintarou wears skin tight jeans and ankle boots that insinuate his already shapely legs. Akashi doesn’t know if it’s worse for him that he knows how those legs look bare, wrapped tightly around his waist and resting high on his shoulders. Akashi doesn’t even dare look sorry as Shintarou catches him looking with an amused arch of his brow.

Akashi simply shrugs.

He’s more casual this go around too, wearing dark wash jeans that ride low on his hips, a nice-fitted brown blazer, and a collared blue dress shirt with a pair of his most comfortable oxford shoes.

Though, it does amuse Akashi, probably a little too much how Shintarou and him fashionably clash. Shintarou is edgy and punk, while Akashi is the farthest thing from edgy or punk Shintarou will _ever_ come across.

He says as much as the waitress leads them towards their table that is located at the back of the restaurant in a little hidden alcove Akashi had to pay for. Shintarou smirks and says he actually likes it better that way.

Akashi hums, looking at Shintarou from the corner of his eye. He smiles a secretive smile, coy around the edges and soft around the curves and he leisurely licks his lips.

He feels the exact same way.

…

Dinner goes off without a hitch. The only time they don’t talk is when their food arrives and even then there are playful little barbs and quips thrown back and forth between the table.

They drink and talk afterwards. Akashi’s noticing that all throughout dinner they have moved steadily closer to one another, and with the alcohol warming his blood he puts his hand boldly on Shintarou’s leg, his fingers teasing the seam of Shintarou’s jeans on the inside of his thigh.

“Those jeans make your ass look great by the way. Did I tell you that?” Akashi whispers it on the shell of Shintarou’s ear, feeling the other man shiver and his thighs part slightly. Akashi makes sure to just _barely_ touch the lobe of the other man’s ear with his lips, stroking Shintarou’s thigh up and down soothingly and intentionally digging his nails into the fabric as Shintarou hisses through clenched teeth.

Akashi grins and nips and pulls slightly at one of Shintarou’s piercings, feeling his cock stir in interest when Shintarou lips, pink and shiny wet, part on a wispy exhale of air.

“You didn’t,” He sighs, angling his head better for Akashi as he licks, nips, and bites. Akashi feels himself growing bolder and bolder as he slides his hand up and cups Shintarou through his jeans.

“Oh fuck.” Shintarou shifts restlessly, biting into his lip.

Akashi chuckles, kissing his way across Shintarou’s jaw, down to his neck and he bites, squeezing and cradling his cock and balls in his palm.

“I was going ask if you could keep quiet, but I don’t think you can.” Akashi jeers, squeezing harder to prove his point as Shintarou jolts and moans the prettiest of moans Akashi’s ever heard. Shintarou’s lips are so pink—the most vibrant Akashi’s ever seen with the most delectable cupid’s bow and Akashi knows he wants to see his come dripping down those lips one day.

“Come home with me.” Akashi groans harshly into his ear and Shintarou’s eyes flutter closed as he nods his head eagerly.

Akashi doesn’t know how much money he leaves on the table as Shintarou and him hastily make their exit, but he can’t for the life of him seem to care.

…

As soon as they walk through the door Akashi grabs Shintarou by the hips and slams him back against it harshly. Shintarou reacts beautifully, arching his back and hissing out a terse breath.

Akashi grins, highly pleased.

Shintarou is impossibly hard against his thigh and he prompts his thigh between Shintarou’s legs, shifting his weight this way and that, relishing in the steading flush high on his cheeks.

“Seijirou.” Shintarou gasps, rutting his hips lightly into the friction and Akashi hums somewhere deep in his throat when Shintarou puts his hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape and Akashi can’t help but to lean into it and usher a shuttering breath against the hollow of his throat.

Akashi has always appreciated the moment before kisses—how breathe intermingles and everything surrounding becomes a mess of blurs and it’s no different here as he hovers his lips only millimeters from Shintarou’s, basking in the erotic thrill it gives him.

“How many times have you thought about me doing this since the first time?” He asks sultry, still not giving an inch as he leans his body more heavily on Shintarou’s lithe one.

Shintarou narrows his eyes slightly, but Akashi is enraptured by the brightness in them, how beautifully acidic they look.

“Don’t be so conceded—I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m not ashamed by how much I want you,” Akashi bluntly states, grinding his cock slowly into Shintarou for emphasis. “You’re sexy, intelligent, and charmingly cynical—why wouldn’t I want that?”

Shintarou’s mouth gapes, opening and closing like one of the fish in his tank and Akashi wants this man so much it startles him.

“Seijirou—”

Akashi’s lips meet his and nothing too meaningful is said for the rest of the night.

…

Akashi blinks awake and Shintarou is resting on his elbow next to him, watching him with a pensive expression.

“You stayed.”

He scoffs, though there's no real bite to it. 

“Of course I did, fool.”

Akashi doesn’t retort as Shintarou leans over him and kisses him deep.


End file.
